


Hold Me In The Cold

by joyfulsongbird



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, orphydice, pure fluff, they are just lovely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyfulsongbird/pseuds/joyfulsongbird
Summary: “What’s this new song about?” she murmurs into his shirt, eyes closed but she knows his hands still. “What was your- what’s the word- muse, for this one?”“You, of course.”***If Orpheus never turned around and they live on through that winter to the spring. Their love knows no bounds so they live their lives to the fullest, spending cold evenings pressed together and listening to Orpheus play beautiful music.
Relationships: Eurydice/Orpheus (Hadestown)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Hold Me In The Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted all of the fics I'll be posting soon on my tumblr (@joyfulsongbird, hit me up, I'm friendly) and want to immortalize them on this website. thanks!

Evenings when neither of them are working are usually quiet, a relaxed state both of them enjoy wholeheartedly. Sometimes, they take a walk in the forest. But in these chilly fall nights that usually leave a layer of frost on the grass, they cover themselves in a quilt, start a fire, and sit together. Letting the shared warmth of their two bodies fill the house, until one of them starts yawning and they move to their bed. But for now, Eurydice is content to lean against her lovers shoulder, watching his fingers lively dance against his guitar, a few quiet notes plucking out here and there, ringing in her ears. A long pause where the scribbe of a pencil replaces the music, and then he’s back to methodically plucking out some new melody.

“What’s this new song about?” she murmurs into his shirt, eyes closed but she knows his hands still. “What was your- what’s the word- muse, for this one?”

“You, of course.” he answers it like it’s obvious. Like she should’ve known already. “How peaceful you look. How your bangs fall over your eyes a little bit. Pink lips that I kind of want to kiss… and now you’re smiling, and that makes it even better. And your long eyelashes. The-”

“Okay,” she interrupts, though smiling just as he said. “I get it, you love me.”

He hums out a deep note, letting it rattle through his chest and vibrate into her body. Warming her through and through. She hums it back.

A few more minutes pass by, until, “are you tired, love? It is getting late.”

“No,” she assures him. “I love this. I like listening to you play and write, and I’m so warm, don’t make me move.”

She nearly hears the smile in his voice, she can physically see it in her mind. “Alright. Let me know when you’d like to go to sleep.”

“I will.”

She doesn’t.

***

Orpheus glances over at his wife almost half an hour later, to find her eyes closed and mouth drooping. Her breathing easy and steady, eyelashes fluttering with each movement of her eyes behind her eyelids. She’s dreaming. Of what, he isn’t sure, she probably won’t remember in the morning, but he’s happy to know that she is in a deep enough slumber that dreams will come to her. He prays they do not turn to nightmares as they often do these days. He just wants all good things for her. Is it too much to ask to want everything for one person? Well, yes, but it isn’t selfish either. He wants to give her sunshine and lime green grass and pale red leaves and light snowfall glistening and carnations and sonnets written in the dead of night. He wants to sing her songs that she will sing for years to come. He just wants to give her everything after he failed to give her the necessities.

He gently sets his guitar on the floor along with his notebook, winding an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders, he lifts her into his arms. So light for someone so strong. So little. Dainty, almost. Her head lolls against his chest, she makes a small noise, deep in her throat, and he stops. The last thing he wants now is to wake her. They’re both so tired these days, especially her, who works constantly. At least a lot of Orpheus’ night work is something he loves, playing music and singing. She tends the garden all day, works the bar, takes twice as many shifts as he gathers extra tips for playing music. She takes such a burden. She needs this slumber.

Setting her gently down on their worn, hard, mostly uncomfortable mattress, he pulls the quilt up over her shoulders, just below her chin. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulls the blanket over his body as well. Sharing their body heat gives the space a warm feel. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of her head before shifting and getting comfortable to go to sleep himself. He watches her breath, a tempo he can count in his head every time her chest rises and falls.

1…in…2…out…3…in…4…out

The rhythm of her aliveness lulls him to sleep.

***

Eurydice wakes up in a position and place she did not fall asleep in. But she isn’t complaining, she’s warm, and it smells like honeysuckle and Orpheus’ mouthwash. Her eyes remain closed, moving would just ruin the moment and sleep is hard to gather these days so she keeps the darkness behind her eyelids. Hoping to fall back into a slumber, but no, her body has decided that it’s quite time to wake up. She still doesn’t move afraid of disturbing Orpheus. He needs this sleep, she can see these days that the bags under his eyes get darker and darker. That the luster in his eyes gets just a little dimmer. She hates watching it happen.

However, he’s the first to move. She can tell he’s waking from the way he shifts and the change in his breathing.

“Hmm…” even his sleepy sounds are almost musical.

She hums the note right back at him, sort of a game they play sometimes. He plucks a string on his guitar and she sings it back from wherever she is, washing dishes, in the garden, or he’ll sing one out from the sink and she’ll repeat it back from the bed.

He’s more awake now, the note this time is clearer and warmer in tone.

She repeats it back, an octave up.

It goes on like this, back and forth, until they are awake and waiting to see the sun. Before she can pull herself out of bed, though, she feels the brush of his nose on the back of her neck and she smiles, rolling to her side planning to brush a small kiss on the tip of his nose but completely missing and landing it on his eyelid, which makes him smile, so she kisses the other one too. A kiss to both his cheeks, one to his nose, and finally a peck on the lips before rolling away and out of the tangle of blankets and sheets.

“‘rydice,” he groans, still lying limp, buried in the blankets. “It’s too early to be so wakeful. Come back to bed.”

She laughs as she pulls clothes out of her drawers, planning for a day at the bar with Orpheus and dressing accordingly. Her black slip dress, black pants underneath, brown vest, and long overcoat. On days that she plans to spend gardening, she switches out her dress for an old white shirt of Orpheus’ tied up and an old pair of jeans stained from years of use.

By the time Orpheus is getting up, she’s slipping on her vest and going to the mirror to brush out her hair.

He comes to stand behind her, leaning down to rest his chin her head.

“Stop being so damn tall.” she jokes, nudging his jaw with her fist. He peppers kisses on the top of her head, the side of her head, her neck. He’s so sappy and affectionate in the morning. She doesn’t mind one bit.

“Get dressed.” she finally reminds him. “Or we’ll be late.”

“Fine, fine.” she watches him backwards through the mirror, admires the way he moves as he slips on old hand-me-down pants from Mr. Hermes, a button shirt, and his suspenders. As he starts to tie his red bandana, she turns back to the mirror to mess with her hair again.

“Ugh,” she remarks. “My bangs want to fly away from my face.”

He barks out a laugh, “gods, I love you.”

It was moments like these that she cherished: where she went over to him while he played and distracted him by wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheeks to his back; standing in the mirror together, half naked, and laughing at the way they described their own features; Orpheus tapping a rhythm out on her leg as they lay together; a kiss shared between shifts at the bar; dirt smeared on her nose that he tried to wipe off but only managed to make it worse. These moments were more common than she thought, the more she made a list of these moments. And it made her happy, knowing that every day had at least one of these things that brought some brightness to a cold, winter’s day.

She sat at the table, waiting for her water to boil to make tea. She used to drink solely coffee, but after living with Orpheus (a faithful tea drinker) she decided to try and get rid of coffee addiction.

She twists her wedding band around on her finger, admiring the way the metal glinted in the faint, early morning sunlight wafting in from the window directly behind her. She liked the way it looked on her, liked the way it felt, the natural way the silver coloring looked against her olive skin tone. How her and Orpheus could hold hands while they were dancing and know that the other was wearing their ring. And see the glint of metal; and smile, because they belong to each other. That these rings signify a life together, one where she won’t leave, one where he won’t abandon her. Not that she’s afraid that he will, but deep down inside of her, the part of her that fled every town and home she had, is afraid that the people around her will leave. The rest of her knows Orpheus loves her, for he tells her every day, and she is content here. She loves it here. She loves Orpheus. She loves Persephone. She loves Hermes. She loves the smell of the bar, old wood and whisky. She loves their home, with its thatched roof and periwinkle blue walls. She loves the garden by their home. She loves all of it. Even the train, she has learned to love. She’s learned not to dread the sound of the whistle coming in, not to hate the smell of coal smoke. She loves the way the train itself glints in the sun. She loves how the smoke comes out in perfect puffs. She loves how the train brings Persephone home to them; brings spring back to winter.

“Hey,” Orpheus interrupts her zone out by gently tapping the table in front of her, effectively snapping her out of day dream. “Stay with me, okay? Mornings are boring without you present.”

She smiles, nods, “got lost in thought. That’s all.”

He purses his lips before pressing a kiss to her head, and going to fill two mugs with hot water. She knows he worries about her, but so does she for him. But he always seems to worry when she lets her mind wander to darker places, when she stares blankly unnervingly like a worker from Hadestown. She hates to think that when she looks like that, Orpheus can only see her as what she once was.

“Thanks, love.” he always smiles when she calls him that, though she often does, and for that specific reason.

And he always replies; “my pleasure, love.”

Which usually makes her crack up, or smile, or blush. One of the three. This time, it leaves a faint pink glow on her cheeks which she attempts to chalk up to the steam drifting up to her face from her hot drink.

They drink their tea in a comfortable silence, with the occasional clink of a spoon on a mug and a mug being placed on the table. They don’t mind the silence, especially so early in the morning when neither of them are quite ready to face the day.

She places her mug in the sink, leaning against it to watch Orpheus drink the last dregs of his tea before wandering over to the sink as well. She blocks the sink with her body, stretching her arms out to keep him from placing his cup next to hers.

“Move!” he laughs, swerving around to place his mug in the old steel sink. In the moment of closeness, she leaves forward, colliding her lips to his for a sweet moment of closeness in the morning. She leans back against the counter, pulling him closer in that moment, deepening the kiss to something more passionate, but still just as sweet.

“We have to get to work.” he reminds her quietly with a smile that she can feel against her own lips.

“I know.” she murmurs back, tilting her head to the side and hooking her fingers onto his bandana, gently tugging on it. “We have a few spare minutes though.”

Can’t every moment of the day be like this? Like warmth and the taste of green tea mixed with her lipgloss and his mouthwash. The young couple learned to live for moments like these, mornings like these mornings, kisses as sweet as these kisses.

Can’t it always be like this?

A knock at their door says that it cannot.

She pulls away, disgruntled, “who the hell-?”

“I’ll get it.” Orpheus sighs, stepping away from her and untangling his hands from her waist.

“Orpheus, wait! Come back!” she calls as he starts towards the door. He turns back to her, as she reaches up to wipe away her lip gloss off of his mouth and chin and cupids bow. He laughs as she does so, before she sends him to the door. She strides across the room, to the mirror to fix her now mangled hair and smudged makeup. Her bangs were indeed flying away from her forehead, and her lipgloss was spread far from her lips. She wiped it away, hearing a faint familiar female voice in the doorway, frowning. And then an exclamation of joy from Orpheus and she looks over in curiosity.

Before she, too, nearly cries in the relief and joy of spring arriving again.

Persephone’s dress is just as bright green as she remembers and emanates warmth as Eurydice throws her arms around the women, burying her face in the giant sleeves until she can feel her shoulder beneath the fabric.

“You’re back.” she sighs. “It’s spring.”

Persephone pulls back, holding her out by her shoulders to examine Eurydice thoroughly. Her eyes roam her face, over her body, like a mother checking on their child.

she taps the young girl’s nose. “I’m back, hon.”

“how was your winter?” she continues, turning to add Orpheus to the conversation again. “Not too difficult, I hope?”

“Better. Much better than it has been.” he says, looking to Eurydice as if for approval. She nods, smiling.

“Good, good.” Persephone says, her grin spreading even wider than before.

Spring has come, finally.


End file.
